


Alien

by wicked3659



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 12:18:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wicked3659/pseuds/wicked3659
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for speedwriting advent calendar 2012. <br/>Prompt: An alien world in winter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alien

Winter on an alien world.

 

His journey had been a long and arduous one with countless obstacles along the way, some which he had barely survived. Survive he did. Traversing through the vast cold darkness of space, Prowl arrived on Earth long after that first small band of soldiers had set off after their Prime and even longer still after Prime and his team had left home.

 

Almost a whole vorn had passed since he'd left Cybertron and there was no longer any need for war. Megatron was dead, their world in tatters, an unlivable rock now lost in space. Prowl had glimpsed this world only once previously. He had been planetside the day the space bridge opened, the biggest space bridge he had ever seen. He had ordered immediate evacuations but he had been too late. Many had died when their world was repelled back to where it belonged, many trapped in the void between space, lost forever in the vortex that had once been the space bridge. Cybertron had virtually been torn in half, he had only just made it out alive. Prowl though was a stubborn mech, he had always been so, it's why Prime had trusted him back when he was merely a member of his security forces and it's why he was still alive to set foot on this organic planet now.

 

He had to know the outcome. Had they all lost? Had it all been for nothing? How many had died, how many lived? How many remembered the sacrifices so many of them had given for a new life on a new world? He had so many questions, even now, one year since he'd landed, he still had more questions than answers.

 

Once upon a time he would have turned to Prime. The enigmatic Optimus Prime who had led them to salvation and fought for them, had died for them. If Prowl had been one for such sentiments he would have called Optimus a hero but for all his heroism there had been a hefty price to pay. Prime was more reclusive now, quiet, somber, burdened by the weight of all that had been lost, of the lives he himself had brutally taken. War had changed him, it had changed all of them and so he was no longer the mech to turn to for answers.

 

Ironhide would have been another mech to lend an audio in the past, they hadn't always seen optic to optic but the older mech had a wisdom that few rarely saw in him but Prowl had seen it and sorely missed it now it was gone. Another spark lost. Ratchet as a result of that loss threw himself into research and patching up what injuries their small band of Autobots wrought upon each other. He was no mech to provide answers no matter how much he honestly sympathised with Prowl's plight.

 

The humans however had proven interesting. Only one or two from when they'd first landed on Earth still lived, eighty of their years had passed since that time and their world was fluid, it changed constantly. It grew and advanced and they as short as their lives were, grew and advanced with it. Prowl had to admire their tenacity, their determination to survive, live beyond their means. Their journey through life reminded him often of his journey through space as a result Prowl had formed a bond with Lennox's daughter now eighty years old herself and in the twilight of her years but had a twinkle in her eye and a smile on her face that always had Prowl in awe. She had seen and been through so much, had lost so much in what Prowl considered a mere blink of an optic and yet still had time for him, his many questions.

 

"Have I ever told you you think too much?" Annabelle pointed a bony, wrinkled finger at the black and white leaning in the doorway to one of their Cybertronian constructed buildings.

 

"Many times, Annabelle." Prowl replied simply, shifting to sit down so the woman could converse with him more easily.

 

"You're going to miss all the celebrations with your friends." She tilted her head at him, her blue eyes sad as they studied his ever serious face.

 

Glancing down at the woman, Prowl shook his helm. "They will continue without me."

 

"Hmpff, doesn't mean they wouldn't like you there. Optimus enjoys your company."

 

"It seems like such an insignificant amount of time given how long we were at war." Prowl stated absently, looking out to the horizon. "I suppose when we have been at peace for as long as we were at war perhaps then I will feel like celebrating."

 

Shaking her aged head, Annabelle shuffled over to a chair and slowly sat down, leaning on her walking stick. "Are you thankful for anything, Prowl?"

 

"Of course." He turned to look at the woman in surprise at the question, she of all people knew that he was grateful for many things, they had spoke about them often.

 

"Then you should celebrate them. Not look at the past. There is only pain in the past. Besides I hear Ratchet is planning to unveil his latest breakthrough later tonight. My grandchildren are so excited and they don't even know what it means." She laughed heartily. "Bless their hearts, they love being around you 'bots, just like my father did. You were his family."

 

Smiling softly, Prowl canted his helm slightly at the woman. "As you have become ours. Though I do find your short lives disconcerting at times."

 

"Don't like getting attached, huh?"

 

"Not particularly. When you have helped command an army and had to order mechs to their--"

 

"--deaths, yes yes I've heard it before, Prowl." Annabelle smiled sympathetically. "For one who lives so long you don't half waste it reliving what has been."

 

"Perhaps that is our curse of living a relatively immortal life in the eyes of you humans."

 

"Perhaps." Annabelle mused, "but it is also why you allowed a war to go on for longer than humans have lived on this planet. It's time to move forward, Prowl. Maybe us humans and our short lives can finally teach you something about living, hm?"

 

"That would be nice." Prowl replied graciously, his optics narrowing at the woman upon noticing her shiver in the cold winter air. "Let me carry you inside, it is cold here and I wouldn't want you to miss Ratchet's surprise."

 

"Now you're talking my language." Annabelle smiled brightly, holding still as Prowl gently scooped her up into his hands and headed inside the building, missing the first flakes of snow as they floated to the ground.

 

****

 

Ratchet's surprise had answered a couple of questions about why the mech had been unattainable for several months but it had Prowl reeling in shock. Some things weren't to be meddled with. In his disgust and mortification at the revelation, not waiting to hear Ratchet's explanation or the science behind what he had done, Prowl had left the building, ignoring Annabelle's cries for him to stop and had accelerated out into the snow.

 

The Autobots had been granted a large uninhabited island to live on in the Atlantic. Annabelle had chosen to retire there and her children and grandchildren often came to visit, as did Sam's children from time to time. It had been a gracious show of generosity from the humans for which Prowl was grateful but there were many times when the small land mass by Cybertronian standards felt like a prison. Standing on the edge of a precipice, Prowl looked out to sea. Snow swirled about him in the winds and howled over the cliffs, the sound almost drowned out by the many birds that took to nesting there over the winter months.

 

Prowl had explored his new home, had travelled to many different lands and was fascinated by the variety of flora and fauna that inhabited this contrary world, some which survived against all odds. Somewhat like they themselves had, the only difference being was that now their species was doomed to extinction, or so he had thought.

 

Ratchet's research apparently changed all of that. A way to create sparks from fragments of sparks that had once inhabited a living Cybertronian. The original spark would be a clone of the original but that individual would be sparked as all Cybertronians had once been, capable of reproduction, of creating a new spark by merging with another who was compatible. Optimus had approved this work but it left Prowl feeling unsettled and even more out of place on this still very alien world. What would the humans do once they learned their robotic neighbours could suddenly expand and had the capacity to take over their world and wipe them out without even trying? Prowl's processor whirled with the scenarios, the wars that could transpire, the forced breeding programs the remaining Decepticons could create if they heard  this news. It didn't bear thinking about. One thing Prowl knew for sure, he was too tired and old now for another war. He would not stay for that.

 

Amidst the howling, unforgiving winter wind, Prowl became aware of another presence and he tensed, waiting.

 

"You always did think too much." The soft lilt to that voice was the same as it always had been and it caused Prowl's intakes to catch.

 

"Some of us have to in order to keep the rest of you out of trouble." He replied quietly, repeating words he'd spoken long long ago.

 

"Oh ye of little faith." The smile was audible in that voice, closer now, causing Prowl's sensor panels to twitch at the sound.

 

Prowl turned slowly, all of his questions, all of his doubts overridden by one all encompassing question. "Are you... still you...?" His voice was a whisper, barely audible in the wind which had eerily quietened its' screams along the coast as the two ancient beings stood facing each other as they had almost a lifetime ago.

 

"The one and only." The smaller mech smiled brightly, giving a showy spin and dance on the spot.

 

"This is serious!" Prowl snapped, tearing his optics away with a frown.

 

The other mech stopped and stepped closer. "What do you think?"

 

"I think... it isn't possible... you..." Prowl struggled with the words. Some losses had been more painful to bear than others. "Your spark was extinguished."

 

The silver helm tilted, causing soft snowflakes to gather against one of his helm fins. "Only partially. Ratchet would have explained everything to you had you given him a chance... you're always the stubborn one. It's alright to give others the benefit of the doubt from time to time, you realise?"

 

"...I thought I'd lost you... I was mov--"

 

"--Don't you dare finish that sentence, mech because we both know you don't know how to move on from anything. You don't forget, you don't let go and you always have to have the last word in a fight."

 

Prowl looked up with brighter optics and quirked an optic ridge at the silver mech. "Really? As I recall I thought that was you."

 

"Well see that's my point." The silver mech grinned, taking another step closer.

 

"I'm afraid I don't see what you're--"

 

"--Always the last word."

 

Prowl opened his mouth only to close it again stubbornly giving the silver mech a pointed look.

 

"Starting to believe it's me yet?"

 

Prowl's sensor panels fluttered as the silver mech pressed close, the icy snow and the winter breeze forgotten as the silver mech's familiar heat and even more familiar energy field flared over him. "I want to... I really do but... everything on this world... it's just so alien... this doesn't seem like it should even be possible, it's surreal."

 

"How about I make it more real for you then, hm?"

 

Prowl's optics flickered as the silver mech pressed close, his hands curling against the red metal of his chest as he leaned closer, pushing himself higher with his feet in an attempt to get closer to Prowl's face. Mildly amused at the attempt, Prowl couldn't prevent a soft chuckle from escaping, receiving a glare from that bright blue visor.

 

"Mind giving a mech a hand? Recently resurrected n' all."

 

Smiling at the indignant pout forming on his faceplates, Prowl obliged and gently wrapped his arms about the soltice's middle lifting him off the ground easily until their faces were level. "How's that?" He asked softly, his spark fluttering at the beatific smile Jazz bestowed him.

 

His only response was the silver mech leaning close, his clawed hands cupping his face and the warm, pliable metal of his lip components pressing against Prowl's own as though they hadn't been apart for the last two vorns. Breaking the kiss, Jazz murmured softly against his lips. "Perfect."

 

Unable to contain the elation and rush of emotions threatening to consume his spark, Prowl claimed another needy, desperate kiss, capturing the soft mewl from the silver mech who felt very much alive and well in his arms.

 

Suddenly, on that tiny island in the middle of an alien world bespoke by winter, with snow fluttering and swirling around them, Prowl didn't feel quite so isolated or alone and for once he had no questions to ask but all the answers he could ever want.


End file.
